


no words to describe my home

by smarky



Category: Professional Wrestling, Tokyo Joshi Pro Wrestling
Genre: F/F, Post-11/23/19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 18:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21531010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarky/pseuds/smarky
Summary: Saki-sama chooses her next step after Misao's distraction destroys her match against Rika.Written for thefemslashficletsjanelle monae lyric prompt challenge - #13 "Come, let me kiss you right there wake you up like sunrise"
Relationships: 操 | Misao/沙希様 | Saki-sama
Kudos: 8





	no words to describe my home

When they're alone again, Misao can't look at her. She digs extra roses out of her bag and hides her face in them, pretends she's counting them or inspecting their integrity. 

Saki-sama speaks to Misao about her next plans, and Misao doesn't hear her. She only recognizes that Saki-sama's voice is perfectly calm. Saki-sama is able to put all her frustration away, return their life to its necessary beauty. 

"I don't understand how you got so angry," says Saki-sama, and that, finally, Misao hears.

She wishes she didn't, because Misao doesn't understand either and can't give her a satisfactory answer. It just leapt from her, like an exorcised demon out of her mouth. 

"I thought you were completely devoted to me. That you didn't have room for anything else in you."

Saki-sama's doubt hurts. That's another unexpected sensation that bubbles out of her. 

But Saki-sama is being so patient waiting for her, so Misao finally brings herself to speak. "I got angry… because of my devotion to you. My eternal, everlasting devotion." 

"But why? Your feelings were to my detriment."

The roses fall out of Misao's hands and onto the floor. 

"It wasn't just about me. It was about your wound from her." Saki-sama's words send another stabbing pain through her. Misao is wounded, crippled by her sensitivity. Useless to the woman she's decided to love. 

Saki-sama kneels in front of her. Is this a dream? A nightmare? What should be a submissive gesture somehow begins to feel possessive when she grabs Misao's knee, nails gleaming around it. Saki-sama piles the roses back in Misao's lap, one by one, covering Misao in her image once again. 

"I won't tell you what you did was okay. It wasn't, it was disturbing. But I know how to heal you. I will wake you up. I will return you to my devotion."

Misao expects the Doctor to come in then, to inject her with the serum she never thought she needed, and bares her neck for it. 

Instead Saki-sama slides onto Misao's lap and kisses her. She can barely bring herself to respond the way Saki-sama expects, clutching at her sleeve like a Sleeping Beauty shocked at the new world revealed after her centuries of slumber, as if the serum really was rushing through her veins. The heat of the sun rises up her back, a feeling Misao never learned how to name.


End file.
